The Republicans, seeking a candidate who could match the stature and electability of Reagan, were similarly at a loss. The nominal front-runner, George Bush, suffered from a reputation as a “wimp” who in 22 years of public life—as a former representative, U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, director of the Central Intelligence Agency, and, for more than seven years, Reagan’s vice president—had failed to distinguish himself as anything more than a docile instrument of someone else’s policy. There were three interesting Republican alternatives: Bob Dole of Kansas, the Senate minority leader, who was respected for his wit and intelligence though considered by some to be overly acerbic; former New York representative Jack Kemp, revered among many conservatives as Reagan’s true ideological heir; and the Rev. Pat Robertson, a popular televangelist. None of the three, however, made it through the primary season.

Biden retired from the race after he was caught quoting, without credit, from the speeches of Neil Kinnock, the British Labour Party leader. Among the other Democrats, Babbitt, Simon, and Gephardt all dropped out along the way after failing to string together enough primary victories—or raise enough money—to continue. Babbitt, though he gained attention with a courageous promise to raise taxes to help reduce the swollen U.S. budget deficit, did not come across well on television. Simon’s characteristic bow tie and old-fashioned big-government approach to domestic problems failed to attract enough support. Gephardt managed to win the crucial Iowa caucuses, but his basic theme—trade protectionism—did not play well outside the Midwest.

That left Gore, Jackson, and Dukakis. Young, attractive, and Southern, with a reputation as a centrist, Gore appeared to have momentum after he won five Southern primaries on a single day, "Super Tuesday," March 8. Yet his campaign fizzled in New York, where he had unwisely accepted the backing of New York City’s controversial mayor, Ed Koch. When the votes were counted for the April 19 New York primary, Dukakis had finished first, providing a major impetus to his campaign. Dukakis, who was born and raised in Brookline, Mass., the son of Greek immigrants, went on to become the first Greek American nominated for the presidency. Jackson, who by then had the second highest delegate count and was the first African American to mount a serious presidential campaign, decided to continue running through the final four primaries, California, Montana, New Jersey, and New Mexico, on June 7.

When the Democratsconvened in Atlanta in July to crown Dukakis as their nominee, Jackson made a behind-the-scenes effort to claim the vice presidency but soon relented, fearful of splitting the party along racial lines, and contented himself with winning a few planks favourable to minorities in the party platform. Dukakis instead chose Texas Sen. Lloyd Bentsen to be his running mate. The convention ended on a note of uncharacteristic harmony for the Democrats, whose ticket was soon as far as 17 percentage points ahead of the Republicans in opinion polls.

That lead did not last long. Bush, who had gotten off to a poor start in the primaries, finishing third in Iowa behind Robertson and Dole, made an impressive comeback. He outpolled Dole and Kemp in the February 16 New Hampshire vote and did well on Super Tuesday. On March 29, after Bush won the Illinois primary with 55 percent of the vote (Kemp had by then dropped out), Dole withdrew from the race, and Bush became the Republicans’ de facto nominee. That role was made official in August at the party’s convention in New Orleans, where Bush surprised many politicians by picking Dan Quayle, a young and relatively undistinguished Indiana senator, as his running mate.

Dan Quayle, 1989.

Cynthia Johnson—Time Life Pictures/Getty Images

Bush’s success in winning the nomination was more due to the strength of his organization than due to his ability to project a clear vision of what a Bush presidency would be like—a deficiency that the candidate himself referred to as "the vision thing." Trailing his Democratic opponent in the polls late in the summer, the vice president made a risky decision; instead of stressing his qualifications for the job and his plans for the country, Bush would campaign against his opponent’s weaknesses. Accordingly, Bush’s speeches and campaign advertising focused on such ostensibly trivial issues as a Massachusetts prison furlough plan, Dukakis’s veto of a state law requiring public school students to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, and Dukakis’s alleged failure to deal with pollution in Boston Harbor. More pressing national concerns—the federal deficit and a host of domestic and foreign policy questions—went largely unaddressed.

Though many commentators criticized the Bush approach as negative and trivial, it worked. (The most controversial ad of the campaign, the so-called Willie Horton ad featuring a felon who was let out on a weekend furlough in Massachusetts and subsequently assaulted and raped a woman, was considered racist by many but was actually run by an independent group rather than the Bush campaign.) By mid-August Bush had taken the lead in opinion polls. He never lost it, though Dukakis enjoyed a minor rebound after his vigorous performance in the first of two televised presidential debates. Much of Bush’s ultimate success could be traced to the relatively inept performance of the Dukakis camp, which was slow to respond to Bush’s attacks. As a result, the vice president was able to depict his opponent as a dangerous liberal. That was an unaccustomed accusation for Dukakis, whose three terms as governor had marked him as a moderate. Dukakis himself proved to be a passionless campaigner at crucial points in the race. One such moment came in the second debate, when he was asked by moderator Bernard Shaw whether he would still oppose capital punishment if his wife were raped and murdered. Instead of responding to that provocative question with outrage or earnestness, Dukakis delivered a cool, academic brief against the death penalty without once mentioning his wife’s name. A few days later the governor was as far as 17 points behind in one opinion poll.

The Dukakis effort finally caught fire in the last two weeks of the campaign. Embracing the "liberal" label and making a fiercely populist appeal, the governor began drawing huge, enthusiastic crowds. He even edged closer to Bush in the polls. By then, however, it was too late. On election day, November 8, Bush won 54 percent of the vote to Dukakis’s 46 percent. The vice president carried all but 10 states and the District of Columbia. That gave him a 426–112 margin in the electoral college. When the electoral college met in December, however, Dukakis received only l11 votes. Apparently in protest against the electoral college system, an elector from West Virginia, a state that Dukakis had won, chose Bentsen for president and Dukakis for vice president.

"The people have spoken," Bush said shortly after learning he had won. Nevertheless, in the minds of many Americans—and especially the Democrats, who retained control of Congress—Bush’s negative campaign had left a sour impression. Perhaps sensing those doubts, he attempted in his victory address to deal with "the vision thing" and reach out to those who had voted against him. "When I said I wanted a kinder and gentler nation, I meant it—and I mean it," he said. "My hand is out to you, and I want to be your president, too."